SoulHurt
by inner harmonies
Summary: AU in which Loki's staff works. It was decided then that they would not be equals. However who else but Tony Stark could so easily meet the gaze of a god?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Soul-Hurt

Series: The Avengers

Rating: T

Summary: AU in which Loki's staff works. It was decided then that they would not be equals. However who else but Tony Stark could so easily meet the gaze of a god?

Note: And love to my dearest, who is my beta and my Loki guru. This was inspired from multiple gifsets on tumblr and is my second frostiron project in the works. I own nothing, if I did, the tower scene would've been way longer. Thank you oh so very much for your attention and readership. Enjoy!

* * *

"How will your friends have time for me when they'll be so busy fighting you?"

It would be too kind to say that a shiver ran down Tony's spine, because that would imply that it was a fleeting feeling. No, it was something else entirely to have ice _clutch_ at every nerve on his spinal cord and seize him. The god stepped forward, a mask in place of unyielding eyes, daring Tony to look away.

Perhaps the clearest indicator of fear was when Tony did just that.

Last he'd locked eyes with Loki, he was inviting him inside, beckoning him to follow Tony right into the tower that he called his home. He'd offered a drink and he'd allowed his mouth to ramble as it had, taunting the god and provoking him. There was no shame, there was no remorse. There was also no air left in Tony's lungs as he swiftly remembered Fury's secondary demand to finding the Tesseract.

"_And can you tell me how it turned two of the sharpest men I know into his personal flying monkeys?"_

So he tore his eyes away, flickering down to the scepter that was approaching him and he quickly remembered something that he had read in a book. When he was a child, they said that responses to hazardous situations could be Fight or Flight. An amendment in later years had changed it to Fight, Flight, or Freeze. He'd tossed it aside thinking they were just trying to excuse what happened in horror movies where dumb teenagers would just stand in the same spot when something was coming at them.

This was hardly the way that Tony wanted to find truth to that statement, his joints completely locked up and he couldn't even take a step back. He needed the armor, where was his suit now? What was he without the suit? This is what he was without the suit. He was paralyzed, terrified, and ice cold.

Loki's staff gave off a flare like a will-o-wisp and a whisper that stood on the razor thin edge of a threat and a promise, its menacing glow reflecting right back in Tony's eyes as his breath hitched.

Fight, Flight, or Freeze. Fight, Flight, or Freeze. He was an Avenger, he should be flying or fighting—

Here he was freezing.

It shot at him like a rudely woken serpent, curling its way through the thin veneer of cloth right into the heart of his arc reactor and he could feel the energy coiling up tight. There was a flash of light from within his chest, as if there was a miniature Uni-beam right in Tony's own body, and if he was not suddenly shuddering from the intrusion of alien energy, he would have caught the surprised look in even the eyes of the god.

The snake continued to slither through his veins and he had not recalled a feeling like this – of rampant, searing, bone-chilling pain – since he last used Palladium in his chest. It reached every part of him, to the tips of his fingers, and he felt it nestle its way into his brain.

His brain, Tony Stark's brain, was the one that everyone wanted to get their hands on. He had created the finest weapons of mass destruction that the world had ever seen and he had tapped into what his father made – that unlimited power source that he had started to suspect ever since he had taken a good look at the Tessearct – and miniaturized it, making it so much more efficient for storing energy. 3 gigajoules per second was the crude creation that he came up with in a cave to save his own life. Then he moved on from there, privatizing world peace, and allowing the world to rest in the palm of his hand because he was Tony Stark and he was untouchable because everyone wanted him.

Tony Stark himself was not the golden goose; he had figured out so long ago that it was not him that everyone wanted. No, they could do without the husk of flesh that he inhabited and ruined every three months. All they wanted was his mind.

Now Loki had it.

A crude smile was back in place as he observed, looking at the bright blue of the mortal's eyes. It was a completely luminescent hue of blue—something that even the sea, for all its creative and provoking capabilities, could not compare to. The color was the best indicator that something had buried itself deep inside of Stark.

What happened when the windows to the soul simply reflected back?

* * *

_twenty minutes earlier._

"Glad to see you back with us, Agent Barton," Tony chirped as he tore apart clouds, racing as fast as he could to get back to the tower. However there was still part of him that couldn't be completely at ease with settling in with someone who had taken multiple shots at them just a few hours prior. Natasha had given her okay, but Tony hadn't trusted her judgment since he was declined for the Avengers Initiative.

That was a little hard to forget, now especially as he was busting his ass to go save Manhattan.

"Well can't blame me to want to be on the winning team, Stark," his ear piece buzzed and Tony could at least appreciate that this guy could take what was probably a prelude to verbal thrashing in stride.

Maybe that's why he was able to tone it down a little. "Sensible. How're your vitals looking though? Every part of you working? No alien baby just waiting in your belly and dying to burst out of your chest mid-battle? Because I'd like a little notice in advance so I could take video and put it on YouTube, at least."

"Well, I don't think I'm an expecting mother," Barton replied from the Quinjet, not even a slight rustle in his voice, the bastard. "Just a residue feeling like I'm waking up from a long sleep."

"I don't think you're authorized to operate heavy machinery then, sir. If we wanted to crash, we would've had Cap drive," Tony quipped and ignored the injured noise that came in through his ear. "But what, you went Sleeping Beauty on us even when your body was being used?"

"No… not quite." And for the first time there was a pause in between Barton's sentences. His voice came in a few seconds later, "It feels like they pull you out. Stuff a bunch of other stuff inside of your head, force you to obey… I've got vague glimpses of what I did, but everything's still trying to rearrange itself in my head. Like puzzle pieces trying to order themselves. I'm back in, but everything else is still trying to accommodate me."

Tony made a vague noise of acknowledgement, but his thoughts were suddenly refocused as the New York skyline came into view. "Then I think you're going to have a double-date with me, Banner, and an MRI when we're done with this, Mister."

"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Stark. If we've still got one anyway."

"Cute," Tony snorted right before he ended that communication line. It took only a moment for him to open up another one, but to someone that he couldn't help but trust infinitely more.

"Did Barton's story seem to correspond with the SHIELD security feed we had on his room, JARVIS?"

"He said much of the same effect to Miss Romanoff, sir. We have no cause to believe that he lied to her and she did not report any strange behavior to Mister Rogers, either," the familiar voice relayed information. Tony had him going through all the security feeds since the attack on the Helicarrier to bring him up to speed.

A noise that was a clear cross between an exhale and a sigh escaped Tony's mouth, leaving him just murmuring, "I guess I'll have to accept that. So what's your take on his story about getting pulled out and put back together?"

"Even I have only had my consciousness downloaded into other surfaces, sir. I have not quite been dismantled in such a way." And only true Artificial Intelligence could give Tony a metaphor like that, so he just gave a soft 'heh' in response.

"No, it doesn't sound comfortable, does it?

* * *

This wasn't the first time that Tony had been held captive, not by a long shot.

He could remember when he was a little boy and got kidnapped, restrained by nothing more than rope and a blindfold as the villainous men who took him sent a ransom out to his father. In comparison, the memory of being trapped in the dank cave, having been in chains momentarily and held at gunpoint as there was no one left to send a ransom to, was a lot more familiar. Tony was held prisoner by the world enough.

Even more recent still, he recalled a piece of him being yanked right out of his chest. The terrible privilege that he only acknowledged as terrible at the time was taken from him as his body shut down in response. There were the aching, precious minutes in the elevator until he stumbled out into his lab, burdened by his own weakness and the shrapnel that his hands touched in creation, after his heart in keen pursuit to bring about his destruction. Tony had been bound in chains by his own body.

None of it compared to this. There was no comparison to watching a predator take a curious step closer, hearing the words slip off of that silver tongue and feeling the fright crawl into his nerves but not being able to respond to it. Words rattled off of Tony's own tongue and he would have said before in jest that 'sometimes, I don't think about what comes out of my mouth.' This was something else bypassing his will completely.

It was the first time in which Tony was completely trapped in the cage of his own mind.

There was something wrong, he decided. This was not what Barton meant when he said that he got pulled out, because here was everything perfect in Tony's head. There was his consciousness, not even drifting off for a nap, forced to watch as he acted subserviently to the one that they had identified as a threat. The bile worked its way up his throat, but he knew that there would be nothing done about it.

It was a mental feeling of sickness, not a physical manifestation of it. It was vertigo as opposed to an ear infection. It was a headache as opposed to a concussion. It was heartbreak as opposed to a stab wound.

He knew which he would've preferred.

"I do applaud the entertaining light show," Loki began in a slow drawl, his eyes slipping over the man that stood before him now, "but are you quite done?"

Identifying the cause of the sudden display wasn't hard upon closer inspection. Despite the dark shirt that the man wore, now that Loki was seeking to look for it, there was the soft dent against the fabric that denoted metal that lay beneath. Oh, how little he knew about this ironed one. It would seem that he was half-made of the machines that he was so fond of. Why, it was almost hypocritical all the grief that he had given Loki for being foreign when he was acting as a monstrosity walking his own streets.

"Should be," the other responded, voice just as chipper and seemingly nonchalant as it always was. But now it lacked the tone of defiance that he had been addressing Loki with, and good for him. Perhaps now he would live through the time they would be speaking. "It was just your disco stick interfering with the arc reactor."

Clear, green eyes surveyed the landscape. None of the pesky SHIELD contraptions were coming hurtling just yet and it was still a few minutes before Selvig would open the portal under Loki's command. His gaze swept again to the man who was now looking at him eagerly, though remarkably obediently. First, he decided that subservience was quite the good look on him. Second, he thought that a bit more information reconnaissance wouldn't do him any harm.

So with a light lilt in his tone, he questioned, "Arc reactor?"

"It's a generator," was the immediate answer. "Technology from my father for clean, sustainable energy. The one that I have right here," he tapped the hard surface that Loki had only heard earlier, "is said to be able to power my heart for… what, twenty lifetimes now? Something like that. Except… now that I think about it, my old man was the one who found your little blue and glowing box of magic. Chances are that he probably reverse-engineered what he found from that and harnessed the huge expanse of energy, mimicking it with Earth metals and materials to create the arc reactor. The energy from the original and the duplicate probably clashed, producing excess photons as they tried to accommodate each other, resulting in temporarily making me a lava lamp."

Perhaps this one wouldn't be impossible to deal with, even with the mouth that he had. So Loki merely narrowed his eyes and sunk his teeth into the meat of the subject, "And what effect will that have on you?" If Iron Man would not obey, he might as well be thrown out one of his gaudy glass windows.

"None that stop me from loving you head to toe, honey." Mind control apparently had no effect on Tony's actual speech patterns, though he at least sought amendment when Loki did not seem impressed with his answer. "Genuinely speaking, I should still follow orders but there will be inner turmoil. I'm not in LaLaLand like Barton was. Wide awake and a little horrified, really."

There was really no way to make Loki smile quite like being told that he not only had a slave, but a slave who absolutely hated it but was obedient nonetheless. He could not see into Stark's soul and pick out the broken pieces of the man he was, now having to answer to the one he was threatening just moments ago, and there wasn't a single ounce of regret or remorse on his face. No, the man's lips were still curled into an easy-going smile, his eyes trained upon Loki as he remained the perfect picture of wealth, luxury, and relaxation.

"While I think I can go without your _love_," Loki's voice took on the aggression of a lion for all of a second at the word. Oh, all the love he had known was a lie, after all. He would accept no more façade or semblance of it, especially not from this man who likely knew love even less than him. (Except that was a lie because Loki knew. Loki knew that none would ever be so unloved as him.) "I suppose I can take your devotion, if you would be so kind to give it, Stark."

"Tony."

The god's brows knitted together, the mask slipped for just a moment at the sudden response that was not immediate acceptance or understanding. His mouth found the word that he had already repeated too many times that day. "What?"

"Call me Tony," the man prompted as he tilted his chin upwards toward Loki.

Ah, that wasn't particularly fair now, was it?

Some piece of Loki seized. Not even Barton had dared to be this familiar with him, sticking strictly professionally to _Agent Barton_. Yet if he sought it out enough, he could see the softening of Stark's features. It was an innocent prompt. Innocence had no place here, Loki was certain. It could only be a lie, a ruse, something to perhaps ease the tension and therefore the god into a false sense of security.

Failing to acknowledge that none could lie or disobey under the control of his staff, Loki refused to be lied to. After all, the times when you believed were the times when you hoped, and hope had allowed the glass floor beneath his feet to shatter and welcomed him straight into the abyss.

"_Stark_," and he glowered, pointedly meeting the disappointed look that the man gave him and further crushing it beneath his feet. "Your orders are simple. Obliterate this city and kill the rest that you called the Avengers. Do we have an accord?"

"You know, you could really take a few classes in modern English. If you flit your way down the street, you may be able to squeeze a class or two at NYU before it gets destroyed," the man chirped, quick to come back from being kicked down it would seem. "But yeah, I get it. Wreak a little havoc, cause a little mayhem. What after that?"

Loki gave a slight inclination of his head. "Do you truly believe that I would tell you?"

"Well you know, business partners and all, even though I guess cartels are pretty illegal so it's not like we can start any real canoodling—"

"We are _not_ partners," hissed the god as he took another step forward and glowered down upon Tony. "There is nothing even remotely resembling _equal footing_ between you and I. You, you are nothing more than the ground beneath my feet. A stepping stone in order for me to stand properly atop this wretched rock that you call _Earth_. So do not dare think for even a moment that you and I are on the same level. No, you are so _beneath_ me that the very idea is laughable. So humble yourself and pledge your absolute allegiance to me like the sniveling, groveling _dog_ that you are."

The expression on Stark's face was surprised for a long, long moment. Stupefied into a state of shock before the understanding finally seemed to dawn upon his paltry, mortal mind. That was when Loki welcomed it; he welcomed the crumbling look on Tony's face even as he managed to hold it all together. Ah, it was something that Loki had seen in the mirror too many times to not enjoy on someone else. Rich and fatal like a vial of poison.

Loki drank it all in with a satisfied smirk, right until the other fell to one knee and sought a grasp of his hand. Able to respect a healthy taste for the dramatic, Loki deigned to settle his fingers in the rough palm of the worker.

"I will serve you," the words sounding foreign to both of them on the slick tongue of Stark. It was a delight to imagine just how sick Tony's suppressed soul must feel, forced to watch the show of subservience.

Taking no consideration for that, the kneeling man took the deity's hand, pressing the knuckles of it to his forehead. It took a moment for Loki to reach far into the recesses of his experience with Midgard, searching for the understanding of this action before it struck him.

A blessing from god.

* * *

Your reviews would send my heart aflutter. You can follow along in my writing adventures at ~adorabias on tumblr where I sometimes post spoilers and drabbles if you're so interested. Thanks a bunch!


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I bring to you one new chapter fresh off the stove. I might start updating on Mondays because let's face it, Mondays suck. So I've decided to make it even worse but adding an extra dose of feelings punching.

Basic disclaimer that I don't own anything and I appreciate all the interest and support thus far.

* * *

Beginnings will be the end of Tony Stark.

Ironic since he is the creator, the inventor, the engineer that hopes to lead the world into a new age of technology and cleaner, better, safer living. However, it's always been burrowed deep into his mind that it would be what he creates, what he does, and what he gives that would bring about his end—factual as the shrapnel clawing at his heart that was born of his own hands.

There would be no better or more fitting end than for Tony Stark to be the cause for his own demise. Why, his ego would not have it any other way.

However the rules had been changed here. Did it still count as dying by his own hand if he was no longer the one in charge of his body and was barely hanging on to the edge of his mind? Could blame be placed upon the god that was now guiding him about like his owner, his master since he was the one who put him in this situation?

Tony's brilliant mind tried to twist and turn the situation, searching for a way to decipher some sort of formula to help him determine his statistics and chances of being able to escape this situation alive.

Bound in metaphorical chains and hidden from the outside world, the genius found himself truly caught for once. There was no way to call JARVIS from here or any of the other Avengers, no way to insist that they should sooner incapacitate him than listen to anything coming out from his mouth.

For Tony's paranoia was not something that he was in denial about. He'd prepared in case he would ever have to again fight another teammate in case Loki's scepter got to any of them. And just as he was able to accept facts – able to see and hear what occurred around him as well as accept the vast expanse of information that the Tesseract seemed to inject into his veins and have flow to his brain – he assumed that this darker, unleashed yet so _very_ leashed version of himself was able to do the same.

Sinking down and desperately wishing that he was able to close his eyes against everything occurring around him, Tony hoped that someone else had the brain to be able to figure out the one solid truth of his entire existence:

Tony Stark would be the end of either himself _or_ everyone around him.

Whichever came first.

* * *

A soft gust of wind brushed against the god, marking his welcome as he stepped out onto the landing pad that most certainly wasn't designed for him. Despite everything, he can come to appreciate standing here – high, high, almost far too high above everyone else – and looking over the expanse of the city. There's no helping the mild smirk that plays upon his lips—

Just as he catches some strange item that was just tossed his way.

Turning his head and uncurling his fingers, he sees some sort of strange Midgardian device, or so he can only assume since the one who threw it is none other than his newly ensnared toy: Tony Stark, who has been accredited far and wide as an inventor of sorts.

They're small pieces of equipment, circular and filled with holes something like the containers the mortals used for their condiments that they would shake and have the spices fall out of their glass entrapment. Yet he made a slight motion of a shake and nothing came out. Not a surprise since they were quite flat indeed, and no larger in diameter than a fingernail.

His curious gaze fell upon Stark to explain.

There was a moment's delay despite the fact that the man was looking directly at him, and though Loki expected some sort of expression of amusement or mockery – not many could truly claim to have more knowledge than a god – there was only a mildly surprised and befuddled look.

In response, the god narrowed his eyes. During his stay in Midgard, he'd quickly learned that not many could follow Tony Stark's thought process. It was an entirely different affair to have this confirmed and a blow to his ego to be lumped in with the 'many' that classified the brain of the man before him as a complete and total enigma.

Though unintentional, there was something pleasing about the way that the mortal seemed to think that the glare was intended to express anger at the silence. So his mouth was quick to move—

"Communication device. There's no mind link that connects us, right? Or even if there is one supposed to be settling in the back of my mind, there's bound to be interference with the arc reactor energy," he explained easily and gave a rise and fall of his shoulders in a shrug, "It's hard to be a proper soldier without orders."

Despite the willingness of the man to serve, Loki was never one to just let an opportunity to slip by. "Oh, no one ever said that you're a soldier, Stark," he let his words slide like a knife, "The position of knight is a bit much even for you."

Loki's reward was exquisite. It was clear that the mortal's expectations had already dropped since he'd tried to claim that they were partners. So instead he dropped his rank to that of a soldier, a protector, a knight—someone that may at least be a bit necessary.

His expression had also dropped, from the cheeky smile it once was to curious eyes instead, still eager for acceptance and praise. When he was instead met with further mockery, his brows drew together as a response with a frown pulling at the edge of his lips.

"Oh, you are quite right to claim me as your king and commander," the god drawled slowly as he stepped toward the inventor, tossing the elegant little inventions he had been given up and down in his hand, "but I have no need for your _pathetic_ excuse for manpower when I have an army waiting for me that surpasses you in quantity and quality." A taunting laugh passed his lips, "No, it would do better to call you… a pawn."

A flash of strangled and unsure emotion passed in Stark's face, taking on the hit to his pride but also compelled by the sheer force of alien will to override all other systems that would normally cause him to lash back. It took a moment for everything to align in his head, but until then his inner turmoil was quite visible indeed.

Yet a second later there was just a quiet swallow as Loki watched the man with a sense of wicked delight, and a forced chuckle. "Hey, I can be whatever you need, baby."

Ah. Somehow he was still able to save face despite the mockery.

It actually managed to amuse the trickster enough to actually laugh. Oh, how funny it was now that he was given his own personal jester to mock and scoff at. Was this how the Asgardians viewed him? Squirming for praise and attention when clearly there was none to be given?

It made the god's lips curve into a foul grin indeed.

"Oh, I'm well aware, and you _shall_ be everything that I desire, Stark," Loki gave an easy smile in return, chin tilted upwards in a display of arrogance.

His inner beasts had been stirred now as this brought back too many memories. It was all too easy to recall how the gods would play with the _prince_ of them all; their offered and dishonest opportunities to succeed when it was clear to everyone that could never actually _be_ anything that was expected of him. "Throw a dog a bone", wasn't that they quaint saying?

"I seek quite a bit of you," Loki lied as easily as he breathed, "and you will prove yourself to be a sound investment. Something superior to the foolish Agent Barton who is clearly of no use to me now that he's gone and been caught in a web woven by some vindictive woman. And you shall not disappoint."

The mirror of misfortune stared back at Loki as he watched the mortal's eyes seem to take on an even lighter shade of blue, perhaps excited for the chance to prove himself. Something else passed through his expression and he wondered idly if it was Stark's soul moving about within his body. He wasn't sure—

Or perhaps more accurately, he wasn't certain if he actually cared.

"Well it'd be a crying shame if I did," Tony quipped quickly enough, "and it's best if no one will be shedding any tears here today."

Good. He'd taken the bait then.

It would only be all the sweeter when Loki could remind the man of just how worthless he truly was in the grand scheme of things. Let him feel the uselessness and lack of purpose that had been felt when spiraling off the bridge made of light, spiraling down further and further into the darkness.

Such a thing could only be sweet.

"But according to my calculations, even with Clint at the wheel, we don't have much time before the Quinjet gets here. So about the communication device, you have to—"

"Place the one with the faint residue of adhesive to my collar in order to transmit my words and naturally place the other within my ear so I may be able to hear whatever pearls of wisdom you may offer, correct?" Loki didn't bother waiting as he proceeded to do just that.

"Uh… yeah," the mortal blinked, apparently stupefied and Loki could only take it as an offense to his intelligence. He did just that.

At least until the man proceeded to beam at him.

"Great," Stark smiled – and it was an actual smile, small as it was, directed at the Norse God of Mischief for the first time in what felt like eons and it did remarkably unpleasant things to his chest and throat for reasons he was unsure of – before adding, "I expected you to catch on faster than Thor who more or less gave up on it, but you really blew him right out of the water."

… uncomfortable.

Loki did not enjoy the way that the words made him look elsewhere, away from the remarkably pleased look that Stark wore when he looked upon the god. He had just finished getting ready to destroy the man internally and suddenly he was being heaped by the same mortal's praise. It was not as if Loki was a stranger to any sort of compliment—

But when was the last time he had been chosen over Thor?

Perhaps 'chosen' was too kind of a word, but the crux of the argument still lay bare. He had succeeded where his brother had terribly failed and earned the delight of some _mortal_ in return. That was nothing to be proud of, he told himself.

(Even if the man himself was boasted a genius and a sorcerer of his own right in terms of technology in this world. That did not elevate his position at all, Loki reminded himself.)

A pawn. A pawn with a clever tongue that would no longer cause Loki problems, even if it needed to be severed from his mouth.

It was only after making that promise that the trickster refocused himself, glancing back when he heard the clanking of metal feet against the landing. Apparently Stark had a wardrobe change in the time that he left Loki to his own thoughts and was now re-suited in a different set of armor sans helmet.

Trying to bring back a sense of normalcy for himself, the god smiled dangerously, "No matter what you adorn yourself in, you are not suited to be a knight, Stark."

Though apparently the other upped his defenses and only gave a smile, "Worried about me, schnookums?"

Loki made it perfectly clear that he did not with a firm shove between Tony's shoulder blades.

A wicked and remorseless grin found its way on his face as he watched the mortal's eyes widen in response, thrown off-balance and subsequently off the landing pad, hurtling down to the concrete jungle beneath.

There was no disguising the laugh of maniacal joy that tore itself from Loki's throat, not ceasing a bit even as Tony rejoined him, shooting up and hovering by the landing pad with a decidedly unamused look on his face. Oh, he was a pawn, but certainly quite a moody one.

However as Loki met Tony's eyes with a completely shameless smile on his face, he watched the mortal's gaze soften and felt some form of satisfaction.

"Well if we're done shoving me off tall buildings for sport," the man spoke, clearly a bit short of breath, "could you hand me that?"

The god's gaze turned to see that the helmet of the suit was still being held by some sort of mechanical arm protruding from the walkway and he made a waving motion, having it suddenly appear in his hand. Clever fingers ran over the smooth lines, observing the god and the red from the outside. He knew Tony was watching him curiously and perhaps a bit hungrily, which made Loki smile all the more. To say that he wasn't an attention hog was a lie that even he could not swallow.

So he ran one finger over the area where he knew Tony's lips would normally be, enjoying the confused look on the man's face momentarily.

Then he supercharged his magic and launched the helmet in his direction.

It was remotely impressive that the mortal was able to catch the helmet before it hit him directly in the face, especially since Tony still hadn't taken his eyes off of Loki in the time being, the bemused expression still settled upon his features. Then it was a shake of his head before he placed the helmet on not a moment later.

Loki merely gave a shallow shrug that he did not mean at all, "Silver tongue, loose fingers."

Perhaps it shouldn't have amused him as much as it did when the mortal's voice came as a purr directly into his ear, "Hey, I'd let those fingers be all over me."

It prompted a slight arch of one eyebrow and a perhaps too sly upturn of the god's lips as it occurred to him that the mortal pawn was _flirting_ with him as if he had a chance. There weren't words available for that besides 'darling' and 'precious'.

To be honest, it was just one more thing Loki decided he could use to break the genius a little bit more.

Suddenly, a pillar of blue light flashed into the sky, energy surging and Loki could feel the sudden expanse of magic and mystery flooding his own veins. It was clear that it was time for the game to change entirely.

A connection opened up in his mind and something hissed at him that _now_ was the time.

The Chitauri were coming.

* * *

"Either Stark Industries is celebrating the Fourth of July two months early or things just got started, fellas," Natasha offered her odd sense of humor as the Quinjet approached the Stark Tower, having just made it in time to watch the sharp addition of unearthly blue make its appearance on the skyline.

A hand was placed on the back of her seat as Steve spoke through gritted teeth, "I thought the tower itself was an eyesore."

Clint couldn't help but manage a laugh as he guided the jet expertly through the maze of skyscrapers, "Don't let Stark hear you say that."

"How fast was he even going?" the redhead finally let a bit of her exasperation slip out as he toggled some of the buttons in front of her.

They had fallen far behind Stark once he had gone supersonic on them, flying at speeds that the Quinjet simply wasn't ready for. In the time it took them to arrive, they had devised multiple battle strategies between the three of them, taking in all members of the Avengers into account and adjusting the plan according to how many of them would actually be available.

The fact that Tony hadn't been heard from in that entire period prodded at all of their minds, having cut off transmission as soon as his conversation with Clint had been concluded as far as he was concerned.

None of them wanted to mention that they might have to remove Tony from all of the plans they concocted if he didn't show up soon.

"Too fast," Steve finally answered with a huff, "He's been out there alone for too long and hasn't reported back. His suit was badly damaged too. Do you think he ran into trouble?"

"Well no, I'm sure he and Loki had a nice chat over tea and crumpets," the archer among them grumbled. There was no need to point out the obvious venom behind the god's name.

Yet no one mentions the collective ease when they see a familiar figure of red and gold shoot up in the air, just enough to get out of the way from a different blast of blue, notably from a figure of _green_ and gold. After that, it's Iron Man shooting up into the air and on his way to tackle the first wave of the Chitauri.

Steve beams and to no one in particular, calls out, "That's a trooper!"

The hope in his voice is practically palpable.

Unable to keep from rolling her eyes at the display of energy, Natasha immediately tries to get onto locking onto the frequency that Iron Man is tuned in on. She places a hand against her headset and speaks, "Stark, we're here." She flips a switch that should transfer everything that Tony says to the speaker system and they wait.

They wait for some sort of snarky comment about what took them so long, whether he needs to upgrade SHIELD's equipment to keep up with him or if they stopped for drive-through.

There's nothing.

Eyes narrowing dangerously like a crossed cat, Natasha is forced to state the obvious, "Communications unresponsive."

Irritated and already preparing the weapons systems to take some shots at the god standing perched on Stark Tower, Clint can't help but provide the dose of sarcasm where Tony had failed to.

"Real team player, isn't he?"

* * *

Without a doubt, Loki had picked the most foolish mortal to occupy his time with.

All too easily, he shot down the Quinjet when it made its pathetic attempt to try to get him to stand out and really it was just a repeat of Stuttgart. Oh, when would these mortals ever learn? That didn't require even a fraction of his brain power.

No, he was too busy thinking of the way that Tony realized that the Quinjet was coming first, something about the man's technology being remarkably useful.

Now perhaps Tony Stark's mind was a puzzle but this one wasn't too hard for Loki to figure out, especially as he seemed to be quite adamant and determined when his voice had buzzed into the god's ear just moments earlier with a simple command:

_Attack me_.

Not one to take orders but able to catch on quickly enough, Loki was happy to give his best sinister smile and took out some of the frustration out on the man of Iron, aiming a charged blast of his scepter at him before watching the man fly up into the air.

His gaze had followed Tony as he seemed to be making a few haphazard shots at the Chitauri, hitting some but hardly providing an actual defense. At least he was certainly putting on the show that he was _trying_. The level of trickery involved managed to coax a slightly amused smile out of the god now that no one could see. He could definitely appreciate the ingenuity of some old-fashioned double-agent techniques.

Suddenly adorning his full armor and standing upon his personal pedestal, Loki observed the metal suit as it flew across the horizon.

Another simple prompt buzzed in his ear as if Tony knew that Loki was watching him.

"_Trust me_._"_

An abrupt thump and slight rocking of the ground beneath his feet made the trickster's head turn, facing Thor who wore a decidedly solemn look on his face. Green eyes observed the heaving, angry form of the Norse God of Thunder. So this is what became of the one he once called his brother, lumped in with the insects of the mortal realm.

"Brother!" he called out, showing just how far in the past he dwelled, "Cease this madness!"

So Loki's lips spread into a wicked smile and if he spoke a bit more into his collar than to the man beneath him, there was no one to notice.

"_Never_."

* * *

There wasn't a single time in his life when Tony Stark was able to think in a linear fashion.

It was clear since he was young that his brain was simply wired a different way, capable of glorious, gigantic things only because of the way that he thought. There was no simple thing about the process, instead he pulled information from every single bit of knowledge he had compiled over the years.

After burying himself in books and texts during boarding school especially, Tony had a lot to choose from.

As opposed to single file lines – which Tony always had a hatred for even in real life when he made faces at those things called grocery markets – it was a game of Chutes and Ladders in Tony's head.

Thinking about an apple would never simply be thinking about an apple. One part of his brain would be considering the taste and the selfishness of whether or not he actually wanted to eat it. Another part would be thinking about the chemical make-up of the apple, pondering the nutrients and whether or not it would actually help his body. Another portion of his brain would be considering the symbolism of the apple, used in places from the Bible to that terrible teen paranormal romance series that was sweeping the nation and convincing Tony that the next generation was going to be in deep shit. And yet another area of his brain would be completely distracted from the apple itself, reminded of Isaac Newton and the theory of gravity and "what must come up, must come down".

From there it went further.

The tangent of hunger would continue on its own as Tony pondered exactly what he wanted to eat at the time. The tangent of nutrients proceeded on as well as he considered other items in the apple's food group, branching off to pears and oranges. Symbolism would instead become literary analysis and wondering if the color red had anything to do with it. Gravity would proceed on to the broader expanses of the universes and he would be considering Johannes Kepler and his theories on space because Stark Industries had been considering drabbling in that field now—

Lines didn't do it for Tony. Clearly.

Yet now, with the alien force intruding in his brain, all the above almost became obsolete. However it deserved to be explained for why it was _almost_ true.

Within Tony's mind there existed a world of its own, functioning on different levels and depths. There would be paths that lead to other thoughts, some of them on very broad and obvious streets, others like the back alleyways to get to the really good, exciting stuff. Even though there was so much to play with, he was used to being the only occupant.

This was no longer the case.

The Tesseract and Reality fought to bring information to Tony's brain, mixing in fact with science fiction in a way that even the genius's imaginative mind had no thought of before. Just as there was an argument to deliver fact, there was an argument on how to perceive it.

Fact had Tony face to face with this disgusting alien creature that looks like it was dreamt up just for the purpose of scaring children at night. It had guttural growls and feral noises filling up his ears. Sounds of metal scratching against concrete as he's dragged firmly against the building, as well as the feeling of his limbs trailing behind the rest of his body at the speed they're going. Rough and bumpy as he's jostled this way and that.

Tony, the real and captive and no longer master of his own mind Tony, felt every shake and jolt going through his body, right down to the feeling of dread when the beast screeches at him. His mind was still working quickly, considering how to remove the threat before it starts to attack some of the people who are still running about like the world was ending.

He gave them the benefit of the doubt because as far as they were concerned, it probably was.

(Yet the complications exists here, where the version of himself that was newly created and invaded by the Tessearct, the stuff they tried to put _in_ his brain, is just as determined and twice as loud as the captive part of his brain. It exists in the way that superfluous information does, important enough to mention but still meriting nothing more than sentences within parentheses according to Tony's self-centered mind.

He just went out of his way to pick which 'self' he wished to be centered upon.)

In Tony's head, the war sounds like this:

The Chitauri are ugly and dangerous, they need to be swept off the streets before they started clawing at innocent civilians. They're nothing but real eyesores, the way that there's so many of them flying about.

(Why Loki needs them, he really has no clue. Sure, they're great in number but he's offended to think that they might be of higher quality than himself. That was a bold-faced lie and the god absolutely had to see the wrong of his ways. Maybe then he'll get it that Tony really is the best that he can do.)

He's pulling at every shackle and chain in his mental prison, trying to commandeer his body once more. It's a time when he's cursing at his own brilliant mind because it really does look like he's trying to get at the Chitauri and just barely missing- however that bare miss is enough to set a car on fire and prompt an explosion that could hurt the people around it.

(Though in the end, these people were just idiots who believed whatever the media said. Whether Tony was a hero or a villain for sure, they never knew. They may love him for the time being but soon enough he could be the Merchant of Death again as a result of a misunderstanding. What was the use of these people who couldn't even think for themselves?)

Except he cannot but feel some sort of pride as he hears the struggle between Thor and Loki buzzing into his ear. Though of course that is stopped short when he hears Loki's ruse and the burning utterance of the word _sentiment_ just before there is most rustling and finally Thor's voice is simply gone. Something seizes in Tony's chest when he realizes that he's not even sure if the blond god is even alive or dead.

(But it is worth noting that if he is dead, that's one less Avenger to be worried about. His orders still exist to kill them all and he still hadn't devised a full-proof strategy against the god in case they ever had to enter combat against one another. Though there is another slight swell of pride when he realizes that Loki had bested Thor this time, even if it took a trick to do it.)

Deep in the recesses of his own heart, Tony can't help but pledge that he absolutely hates Loki.

(Somewhere in the confines of his mind, he feels his respect and admiration grow.)

* * *

Tony had nightmares like this.

He would be in the Iron Man suit, flying about and shooting at the villains of his sleep, knocking them out of the sky and sending them careening into the street. He wouldn't have time to stop and apprehend them, instead having to move on because there would always be more. There wouldn't be a single moment to stop and think because the city was under attack and he didn't have time to stop and wonder about what happened to the antagonists he had already defeated. Who thought about them?

In the end, there would be no end. The fighting would end only when Tony would wake in the middle of the night, coated in his own sweat as he jolted out of his dream. However the images of a city on fire would remain burned into his eyelids for days, the only way to make them go away was to acquaint himself with his good friend named Scotch.

New York was now the city on fire.

Held captive in his own head, he could not even blink away the images, instead left watching as he flew the familiar streets and sometimes a shot would be fired in the direction of a Chitauri before missing, entirely on purpose, and setting another part of the city crumble.

With every fallen building, another piece of Tony's imaginary heart would break.

It was a clever ploy, he thought, and it didn't surprise him at all that he thought of it. He cut off all outward communications and it was a new suit, so they couldn't hold it against him if he was too busy holding off aliens to bother picking up the phone for the first part of the battle. What his teammates didn't know was that he actually managed to hear every word that they said—he just didn't return the favor.

There would occasionally be a cry of "Stark, watch your aim!" or "Tony, be more careful than that!" even though they didn't even know he could hear them.

However they were just as easily set off by the number of times they said "Nice shot, Iron Man" or "Just a few more, Stark" because there was no way the lie could be believed if Tony missed every time. So what was a Chitauri alien or two if he got to make up for it by setting some buildings and such on fire instead? There had to be a balance, he knew, or else he would run the risk of being found out.

That was the main worry of his active self, Tony realized sometime after another car exploded before his eyes after some half-assed attempt to shoot a laser at a ground-based Chitauri. He just didn't want to be caught. If he was caught, they knew exactly how to reverse the symptoms.

(Supposedly. The entire situation was different now that the alien energy had intermingled with the energy radiating from the arc reactor, engulfing his body and inflicting his veins with alien forces.)

Yet as much as he had sickened him, he felt it. He felt everything that occurred in his body, right down to the pang of pain every time Loki shot him down when he had his hopes up. He felt the hope that existed when the god said that perhaps he could be _better_ than Barton, offering praise to be taken if it could be earned.

Tony was a sucker for attention, after all.

"Steve? Hey Cap, can you hear me?"

His own voice was speaking now, finally deciding to open outgoing communications as well as incoming, starting up a conversation with the designated field leader of their merry crew.

"Tony?" And his heart fell further into the pit of his stomach as he heard the joy in that voice. "Yeah, I can hear you! What happened? Were your communication lines jammed?"

"New suit, had to break it in, Cap. Sorry for being MIA," the lies flowed too easily off his own tongue and Tony hated the fact that he had so much practice. "Hey, I've finally got a lock on your location so I'll be there in a sec. The gang all together yet?"

"Yeah," and Steve actually _laughed_, sounding practically relieved and there was absolutely no way to shake off the feeling of horror, "Now that you've chimed in? Banner and Thor just dropped in too. We're all together."

Tony's lips curled into a smile that he didn't mean, "Great. Then I'm bringing the party to you."

It was an abrupt turn and the strange whale-like craft that Iron Man had captured the attention of before was following after.

Tony went numb.

No one could fight this thing off; he realized that when he had tested his lasers out on it earlier. It was difficult enough to get its attention hard-skinned as it was, but actually defeating it? Impossible. It'd take a suicide mission and a lot of firepower, which none of the Avengers actually had.

Which was why it was being led straight to them.

As he saw the group of them standing there, staring at the alien force floating through the sky, chasing after the metallic man, he wanted to yell. Scream. Tell them to get out of the way because there was no way for them to step out of this alive. When Bruce seemed to turn and start walking _toward_ it, Tony wasn't sure what to do.

Bruce was strong, mentally, physically, and every way possible. But Tony couldn't let this be the way that it happened- his friend wasn't supposed to have his first fight be a suicide mission. He wasn't, he couldn't—

Then Iron Man flew up, leaving the alien crashing down upon the street and coming hurtling at his teammate. A smirk started to curl up in his lips as he watched, ready to report to his god that the Avengers were all dead and sitting in the stomach of some damn space whale.

Until he suddenly had to dodge alien entrails.

Bruce had gone mean and green on the damn thing, stepping forward and slamming it into the ground, the scales of it peeling which Hawkeye's keen eyes didn't miss. After that it was Thor's quick thinking to summon lighting and sent a mighty electrical charge through the beast, bringing about an explosion that was enough to light up the city.

Gritting his teeth and glad for the mask, it would seem that this wouldn't be as easy as he had first thought.

Meanwhile in his cage, Tony had never wanted to call anyone his _team_ quite so much.

* * *

"_Stark, what do you think you're doing? Watch for those civilians…!"_

"_Come on Cap, I've got it, just trust me."_

"… _I do trust you, just be more careful."_

Loki could not and did not fight off the laugh that bubbled out of his throat as he had perched himself on a new building, watching the rampant destruction around him and staying out of the Avengers' way. No, this was much more enjoyable simply to watch.

The chaos was completely underway, the Chitauri roaming the streets as the heroes did their best to fight. However the fact of the matter was that they were completely outnumbered—

By one more than any of them ever thought.

The communication device that Stark gave him proved more than entertaining, able to lock on to whatever conversations were going on in the Iron Man suit, even the formations that Barton pointed out and the directions that Captain America shouted at them all.

Then there was Tony, ever the actor as he continued to feign innocence even when Loki could see that he was quite poorly hiding the way that he destroyed the streets, claiming to miss two times out of five. Poorly calibrated systems, he had said, and at some point Barton had even offered to commandeer the suit to improve its aim!

How laughable.

It would only be a matter of time, he decided. Eventually even Thor would tire and be unable to summon any more lightning to turn the aliens into a crisp and the number of invaders would only grow. None seemed to even consider closing the portal yet, after all.

Oh simple, foolish, weak mortals.

With that thought, Loki merely flicked his cape over his shoulders as he went to commandeer another transportation vehicle when there was a very _different_ shade of green catching his eye.

He wasn't prepared.

His back meant concrete with a crash as he was tackled right off that building and into the street, the movement apparently catching Barton's eye as it buzzed into his ear.

"_Hey guys, I think the Hulk found someone that we've been looking for."_

Curse him, Loki thought, he should have just ended him while he had the chance. Now there was more irritating buzzing as Captain America ordered Natasha to go, 'get answers on how to close the portal, Widow, the rest of us will fend the rest of them off'. So there was to be a gathering, hm?

But it was clear that neither the Hulk nor Thor had these communication devices, otherwise his neanderthal of an adopted sibling would already be on his way over. The Hulk didn't seem to have any other intentions than throwing Loki once more, temporarily halting the god's train of thought.

"Enough!" Loki snarled after being knocked aside for the third time, earning the dull creature's befuddled look. "I am a _god_ and I will not be shoved around by some poor excuse for a human being." He took a breath and his lips curled into a sneer once more, "Though it's quite grand to see your _true colors_ as a _monster_, Dr. Banner."

The Hulk pinned him with a glare.

For the first time since he'd arrived on Midgard, Loki then felt apprehensive.

In his childhood, he and Thor had gone to other realms and faced hideous beasts. Loki was able to outsmart them with magic and superior speed, distracting them in time for Thor to be able to land the finishing blow.

He knew at the moment that he lacked two of three key components: speed and Thor.

A huge, tense hand grasped at the god's throat and proceeded to knock him about, leaving him breathless and pained as he felt his body getting thrown around. There was pain, shockingly, and it seared his system like a harsh burn after going so long untouched. It didn't stop.

There was a final crack as he felt himself being hurled through the air again and even in his ear, there was a buzz of _"Hulk, stop"_ but there wasn't a stop, only a pause.

For when green eyes opened again, the creature still stared at him, disgusting and grotesque eyes piercing into his soul. His ego and body both felt battered as he wasn't unsure what action to take. Spells hummed around his brain and he thought that perhaps, perhaps he would be able to get away still. Just give him a moment, a simple moment—

A moment was not available as a green fist was suddenly raised.

"_Loki!"_

Why his name was being called, he wasn't sure. Certainly neither Barton nor Captain America would be too distressed if he was temporarily out of commission. Although the Hulk was a formidable foe, he still was not capable of killing a god with a punch. Wasn't this what everyone wanted to happen?

Until he realized that the voice calling was neither the pathetic agent nor the man out of time.

Reality and memories intertwined as a spell continued to reverberate in Loki's brain, watching as everything around him occurred remarkably slowly. The punch was thrown but air was displaced and suddenly there was a flash of red and gold.

He blinked.

This was not the image of his brother defending him, standing before him to either block or deflect a blow without facing a scratch against the enemy, full of confidence and valor. Thor was and is a god, able to withstand many scratches and go head to head with the Hulk.

This was not Thor.

This was Tony Stark, the Man of Iron suddenly before him and arms outstretched as if to embrace the fist of the Hulk, aiming to take the blow as opposed to guiding it elsewhere. This was the man with a will of steel, offering himself to be broken.

This was a pawn, diving headlong into the fray to save his king.

This was—

_Crash._

* * *

A/N: ... : ) Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you oh so very much for bearing with me! Hopefully this chapter will make up for the last cliffhanger. c:

* * *

"_You're not the type of guy to make the sacrifice play."_

"Well that goes to show what you know, Rogers" was what Tony wanted to be able to say.

It's difficult to actually do so when your lips were no longer your _own_.

Was that a surprise, though? In the darkest, deepest corner of his mind, Tony was left alone with his thoughts. Since when was he in charge of anything he did?

He was born in this life of wealth and glamour, plagued from the start by fame and responsibility. After all, Howard Stark would raise a golden child. A circuit board at four, an engine at seven, a diploma with the highest honors—

As well as an orphan at seventeen.

Everything else after that was much of the same. Anthony Edward Stark, the best puppet on the market, he'll do anything you want for a pat on the head and a smile just for him. Don't worry about the details like his broken heart, he'll conceal that if you want him to. Pull the strings and he'll dance—he'll create, he'll invent, he'll pretend to run a company that he has no say in—and he'll look good doing it.

Obadiah was supposed to be the last puppeteer, but leave it to the Norse God of Mischief to change things around.

Suddenly he had a new song and dance to learn, but the underlying harmony had been stolen from the first. It was a quaint little tune: short, to the point, and anything but sweet.

It went something like—

_Destroy._

Yet just as before, Tony would insist upon finding a way to turn that on its head. Maybe it was a defense mechanism to salvage what remained of that fictitious thing known as his heart. No one wanted to be a villain, he thought, so even if they call him Merchant of Death, he will find a way to be the Reaper of Life. Somehow, somehow, he managed to flip it again. In order to destroy, there must be something—

Something worth protecting.

Was that why he was here now? Steady in front of the god that had took his mind captive, made him this puppet, and left him ready to embrace the fist of the Hulk?

His orders were to destroy, raze the city to ashes, and kill his team in cold blood. There was nothing about acting as a bodyguard, nothing about watching out for his master, nothing about coming to take any blows for him.

Nothing so sweet as to find something – some_one_ – to protect in the battleground of death.

"_I'm just not hero material."_

The list of defects was still there. Volatile, self-obsessed, doesn't play well with others. Public knowledge that Tony Stark was the billionaire bastard that they wanted him to be so they could squander their wealth in the way he has. Not so public knowledge that Tony Stark was the doll that was barely clinging onto life, hoping that one day he'd be a real boy instead of just fulfilling what was expected of him. Someone that no one wanted to be and a state that he wouldn't wish upon even his enemies.

After all, toys are bound to get broken.

Against the brute strength of the Hulk, there was no way for Iron Man to even so much as remain standing. The gold-titanium alloy of the helmet gave way from the direct force of the hit, the rest of the armor following to land in a crumpled heap not too far away.

Yet too soft for anyone else to hear, just half a second after the deafening _crash_ of crushed metal, the Hulk could have sworn he heard it.

A whisper of pained, shattered sanity.

"Sorry, big guy."

* * *

Ironically, Loki has always held distaste for upstarts.

In the days of a prince, almost as far away as a dream, they would cause issues for Asgard and would put the entire royal family into a poor mood. There was never anything pleasant to see those who held the opinion of the few completely outmatched, facing Odin's ruling might and receiving the appropriate judgment, often cast out for out of sight was out of mind. It was worse to see Thor nod sagely as if this was simply The Way.

In Asgard, perhaps it was.

Maybe that should've been the first time he realized that he did not truly belong. After all, a silver tongue was used in negotiations, magic used in illusions and deceit—nothing quite like the roar of a battle cry or the slam that came with the hammer of judgment.

Barbarians and oafs, he reminded himself. He never wanted to rule over such a crowd.

A flicker of obvious disdain flashed in green eyes, mulling over the hideous species that inhabited the Nine Realms. All of them foolish, all of them repulsive, all of them meant to simply obey and perhaps then they would see their use.

(Though the repulsive thought that buried itself deep, deep in his heart was that what did it mean if all of these terrible and disgusting creatures that he so wished to crush under his boot—

That all of them held similar distaste for him?)

He was pulled from his thoughts (both the obvious and the embedded) when his back met concrete once more, knocking his helmet from its place atop his head and sent skittering a distance.

Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that literally and figuratively, he was thrown.

So his pet was awake.

The hand that was clenched around his throat also told him that his pet was angry indeed, hands tight around his neck and veins protruding from his arm. Loki spared it only a glance before he glanced up—

A drop of blood fell right before the corner of his eye, prompting him to shut it. So he'd opened his wounds again, had he?

Both of his hands reached up to grasp at the mortal's wrist, encircling it in a cuff even as the grip upon his throat tightened. Carefully opening both of his eyes to look up at Stark, breathing hard and delirious above him, Loki let the words fall from his lips with neither malice nor amusement for once.

"At ease."

Apparently the prompting (that was strictly neutral, he decided, for a word such as 'gentle' could never be applied to him or his actions) was enough to coax the man to relax his grasp, lifting his head so finally his hair no longer obscured his eyes.

Brown eyes.

The situation was immediately reversed, Loki's godly strength capable of turning it right upon its head—or rather, turning the Man of Iron upon his back, one hand pinned to the ground as long, spindly fingers gripped at his throat.

A breath of silence passed, Loki glowering down upon his pawn, seething. Finally, a growl passed his lips, "Who do you answer to, Stark?"

He could feel the ripples of amusement passing through the mortal's throat before a chuckle finally escaped and his lips curled up into a smile.

"Didn't I tell you to call me Tony?"

Loki's snarl resounded against the walls.

* * *

"Can someone explain to me what in the blazes just happened?" Steve's voice resounded in the connected intercom system that the Avengers had.

"Later, Cap. We… we have a new situation."

It was clear to everyone just how serious things were when the infamous Black Widow – one of the most capable SHIELD agents of them all, hard as nails, and ranked among the best of them – had her voice trembling over the waves.

"Natasha?" Clint immediately chipped in before turning toward the part of the city he had last seen her. Even from afar, the trembling green mass was clear as day to his keen eyes. Then all too suddenly, it was Barton's turn to give orders. "Cap, _get over there!_"

An arrow flew at a speed that even Captain America couldn't match, zipping by in a straight line, everything else dodging out of its way, as if knowing the hell that would have to be paid if the flight was interrupted. It found its target on a trembling shoulder of the Hulk, clicking twice—

Exploding in the air as it was knocked aside with the heel of the Black Widow's boot.

"Natasha, what are you doing?"

"The real question is what you're doing, Barton," she spoke, voice steeled again. Anyone else would've missed it, the half-second pause before she gave her razor-sharp response, but Clint heard it. Natasha was off, frazzled, and afraid. All the things he never knew Natasha to be, and yet—

"Agent Barton, I request that you focus on the fight. I've arrived and we need you and Thor to focus on those creatures while we figure out what is going on here." Ah, there was the voice of authority.

Gritting his teeth, Clint merely shook his head, "Then I'll be on the secondary frequency. Let me know what's up when you're all done. If Thor flies by, I'll give him the heads-up."

Back at the task at hand, Natasha, Steve, and the Other Guy all stood on the same rooftop, the place where everything had decidedly gone to hell… sans one god and one billionaire.

Black Widow edged closer to their field leader, hand still trained to hover over her gun as they watched the Hulk shudder for reasons unknown. Speaking softly, she couldn't hide her bewilderment, "We've lost Stark. The Hulk had Loki on the ropes when he suddenly came crashing in. He took a blow that was meant to be for our Asgardian friend, and then they both disappeared in a flash of green. New trick, I guess. The big guy's been immobile ever since."

Brows furrowing beneath the mask, Captain America did not hesitate. He stepped forward and spoke in hushed tones. "Banner, talk to us."

The only response was a roar and a swing of a large green arm, though it only met thin air as Steve jumped out of the way, hearing a click as Widow readied her aim. He turned to her and snapped, "Wait! We're a team now, cease the friendly fire."

It was in the moment that it took for Natasha's eyes to widen before another groan left the Hulk, this time sounding considerably more… human. The green beast seemed to fall off balance, following the momentum of his arm and shrinking right before their eyes. Soon, there was only the fallen form of Bruce Banner before them.

Without missing a beat, Steve and Natasha rushed forward, just catching the end of Bruce's mumbling—

"'m sorry, Tony," he muttered into the back of his arm.

"Dr. Banner, c'mon, you can't do this to us now," Steve placed an unoffending hand on the doctor's bare shoulder, breathless, "We need you to figure out what happened to Stark. You've got to stick with us."

Slowly, Bruce's eyes opened and though he pierced them both with an empty gaze, "What do you expect me to do? For the record I didn't get to usurp any of his brain cells through osmosis just because I hit the guy—"

They both winced, hearing the pain through the sharp words. Natasha didn't quite know what it was like to be on the receiving end of a blow from the Hulk, but chances are that even Tony wouldn't have escaped unfazed… and Steve had seen just how the two got along in the lab. Even though his methods were dangerous, Tony might have genuinely been the only one on the helicarrier who lacked a fear of Bruce's 'party trick'.

No one knew what this could've done to their friendship.

"No… No, it's just—" Steve struggled for words, pausing for a moment before trying again. "Did anyone get a good look into his eyes?"

"Not since he raced off ahead and then communications were cut off… he didn't even lift up the face plate," Natasha sighed and kneeled down, helping Bruce to sit up and pointedly ignoring the sounds of chaos still around them. Thunder cracked in the distance and they all hoped that Thor wasn't about to tire out on them.

Bruce ran a hand through mussed hair, still taking a deep breath to try to regain use of all his higher brain functions. "So you lost him. Apparently long enough for Loki to have… probably taken him in."

The super soldier gave a solemn nod, "It's looking that way. There's no other explanation that I can find as to why Stark would go out of his way to defend that guy. But there isn't any sign of either of them here…"

"Apparently Loki decided to save the teleportation trick for last," Natasha muttered as she ran a hand over Bruce's face, earning his wary stare. She merely met his eyes for a moment, getting him to relax as she continued to feel for bumps. "Except… if it works anything like with Clint, Stark should probably have been knocked out of it. Cognitive recalibration and all that."

"That's an awfully nice way to say I probably punched a few screws loose," Bruce gave a grin that didn't reach his eyes before Natasha lightly shoved his head away.

"No time for that," her voice dropped an octave as she looked around her. The Chitauri were all starting to get closer and closer to them, despite Thor and Clint's best efforts to keep the streets clean. "We need to get going now."

"Natasha—"

"Even if we get him back," she glanced over at them with dark eyes, "nothing he ever cared for will still be here if we let these things take over the city."

She was just about to jump over the ledge of the roof when Bruce spoke up again. "Wait."

"Bruce…?" Steve turned, offering the man a hand to help him get up.

The doctor stared at it for a long moment before looking up a bit more, meeting Cap's eyes and saying just loud enough for Natasha to hear.

"Tony might not be back yet."

* * *

"You couldn't pick a better place to take me than the subway system? If I had your magic, I would've gone somewhere a lot more enjoyable. Like Maui."

"Please cease speaking when it is clear that you have nothing of interest to share," Loki hissed as he glowered at the man who was left leaning against the wall, having been tossed there when the god realized that he was becoming increasingly limited in his options.

What he hadn't told Tony was that there was very little time to think about a place to take them and he was quite lucky they didn't end up somewhere in Switzerland or perhaps Alfheim with how haphazard the teleportation was. Even Loki needed a moment to rest to regain some of his stamina, otherwise he absolutely would've left this human piece of trash quite some time ago—

"Loki."

All of his body tensed in response to that as he spat out, "Do not speak. I shall no longer hear my name from your mouth if you know what's good for you, Stark."

Because things had changed. Things had already changed so much since the last time that Tony spoke Loki's name, in the small amount of time between him diving in to his rescue and their situation now when they were trapped in this manmade cave. Now when he spoke the god's name, there was no sense of desperation or _need_—but what type of need, Loki was unfamiliar with.

Not lust, not want, but perhaps almost tinged with fear. But why?

Normally Loki was fond of puzzles but not so much when they tore at him this way. There was no way that he could compare this crumpled mess of a man to the one that he once called his brother, to one who once defended him. No, that was preposterous.

It didn't even matter since now it was clear that neither of those men would defend him now.

And who _could_ Stark defend at this moment? Loki was the one to survey his wounds, finding only damage to happen in one spot: his cranium. Somehow the man's skull survived the impact of the green beast's rage, but not without a severe bump and likely a concussion. Part of his helmet had broken apart and the collapsed metal scraped against his forehead, now painting the upper right part of his head with red—

"You're not making a lot of sense right now, just in case you were wondering," the mortal's head lolled to the side, looking at the god with curious eyes.

And perhaps this is what bothered Loki the most.

His eyes were a chocolate brown, but there were no words of vitriol spilling from his lips. No flames, no fire, not even a defiant flicker. What came out of his mouth was snide and rude, but nothing openly against the one he had just been addressing as his master. Why?

"I find it nonsensical in itself that you are expecting the God of _Lies and Mischief_ to exist within your realm of sanity," Loki couldn't help but scoff, running a hand over the dented Iron Man helmet that he removed from Stark's person.

"My realm of sanity moonlights as the World of Insanity so I don't think that's what you have to be concerned with—" and Stark was interrupted by a cough, wincing as he rested back against the wall.

So far, no trains has passed, likely because the attack on the city left being late for meetings as the very last concern for the people of the city. The dull lights were still on however, leaving a faint light by which they could see each other… as well as the blue that radiated from the Man of Iron's chest.

The god paused, obscuring his face from Stark's view as he tried to come to a decision. It was absolutely an option and perhaps even the default choice to simply leave the man be; let him die and rot in this tunnel without his friends even knowing until they come for him later, only finding it to be too late. Their friend would either be dead or comatose, depending on whether or not Loki was feeling up for stabbing Stark in the heart for dramatic effect.

Yet the other option…

An image flashed in the god's mind. The ugly green creature had looked surprised at the sudden appearance of his teammate, its eyes widening—and then a look of _fright. _It had taken a long silence in the dark for Loki to realize that it was not because Iron Man possessed some sort of ability that would be able to bring to his knees.

No, it was just the fact that they were _friends_ or some similar useless drivel. Oh, the fear of injuring someone that you cared for. It sent a dull pang through Loki's chest that he ignored, but it had just come to show that this _Tony Stark_ was someone who held weight to the ones known as the Avengers. Imagine what would happen if he were to enrage the beast further, openly using Stark as his pawn—

Perhaps that would be able to, as they said, kill two birds with one stone.

By the time that he had looked back at Stark, he noticed the man's eyes threatening to close and frowned in response. He couldn't very well use the man if he was comatose, could he? At that point his mind would be lost even to Loki.

So he moved toward him and the man startled awake when he found a hand against his temple.

"What…" was the intelligent answer that passed through the genius' lips before he winced again, likely from the sudden bite of cold radiating from Loki's hand. When the mortal opened his eyes again, Loki's hand had already taken on a blue hue. "…. whoa, are you part smurf?"

The pointed look that Loki gave him told him he was wrong.

"Na'vi?" he guessed again.

An aggravated sigh left Loki's lips, his own breath a lower temperature than the air around them. He was very focused upon his magic, making sure that the cold didn't spread to the rest of his body besides a slight change in temperature. Only his hand would remain blue if he had anything to say about it—it was already too much a testament of what he was.

But perhaps that same thing could get a fright out of Stark.

So a twisted grin slipped its way onto his lips familiarly, his green eyes meeting the startled ones staring back at him.

"Try _monster,_" he whispered.

Loki waited for his response, waited for the hitch of breath that would make Stark's fear clear and waited for the dilation of his pupils. Waited to feel his pulse pick up from where he was being touched by a creature of nightmares and waited for the clear moment of panic—

A grin had slipped its way onto Tony's lips when he wasn't looking and the following words came as a surprise.

"I don't believe in monsters."

The mask slipped as it was instead Loki's breath that hitched, his eyebrows raising just a fraction in response to the words.

Monsters were always there. They existed in the back of the mind, lurking and waiting. They were the Frost Giants, the filthy race that shared his blood and were the ruthless and dastardly villains of all lore. They were creatures that preyed upon his fears and found strength in them, turning even a prince into something cruel, hideous, and terrible. Physical or intangible, there would be monsters. Even Loki was smart enough to realize that there was indeed such a thing as _monsters_. There would always be—

"You are a fool." And Loki wished that his words had more bite in them than they did.

Yet this simple and obnoxious mortal only continued to keep his eyes locked in with Loki's gaze, "I think I do pretty well for a fool."

Slowly the god regained his footing, a scoff escaping his lips before he even stopped it. The insults continued to flow without issue, "Clearly well enough to find yourself in the company of such a beast."

"Thanks," Stark raised one eyebrow, "I'm glad you agree. I've been a fan of his for a while."

Something contracted in the god's throat and he flinched his hand away from the mortal's head, the color starting to recede from his hand.

"Bruce is a great guy, man of science," Tony continued on without so much as a stammer, "The gamma radiation accident was really weird though. Did you know it was supposed to kill him? But it turns out that that was what managed to save him—for one reason or another, we ended up with the Hulk instead.

"But he reacts really badly whenever you bring him up, he even talks about him in third person. 'The Other Guy' this, 'the Other Guy' that. But it's still something else. I'm not the type to think that everything happens for a reason… but maybe some things do," and he had the gall to shrug as if what he was saying was an unshakable truth. "Either way, I'd appreciate it if you didn't call him a beast. It's a part of him now and he can't help that—"

The words were cut off as Loki's fingers were once more clenched around Tony's throat, pressing him against the wall and fixing a crazed stare at him.

"What do you know, Stark?" the silver tongue spilled words forth before Loki could even begin to consider them, "What would you know of being treated as a monster? Of having your identity ripped out of you? Having to proceed on as normal even if your entire world is now _different_? And what do they expect of you? A noble king, a good lord, a wise leader—

"As if they hadn't known all along that you did not belong. There had always been something, _something_ different and now you finally know and it seems that you are the_ last_ to learn. What do you know of being deemed as _nothing_ through absolutely _no fault of your own_?"

A rumble beneath Loki's fingers may have been an attempt to speak but only made him grip that much tighter, temporarily lost to his own madness that was provoked out of him by this man.

This stupid, stupid man who was more of a threat than he first appeared to be. There was something to be said about someone who spoke to a beast and saw him as a _friend_, threatened by a god and spoke as if he was a _partner_. Despite hurtling all the questions, Loki didn't want an answer.

An answer could just as easily be a knife in his heart when wielded by this man.

Yet there were suddenly hands grasping at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away with weak distinctly _human_ strength, making a pathetic attempt at prying the hand of god away from his throat.

Eventually, believing that this foolish mortal clearly understood the threat, Loki eased off on the pressure before retracting his hand, though he kept the man pinned with his gaze.

There was again something in Stark's eyes, something unreadable and familiar.

Again, Loki felt the urge to crush him under his foot, stomp out anything that could be even slightly reminiscent about this foolish, pathetic mortal that did not belong on equal ground with him.

A stepping stone, he had said. A dog, so absolutely and totally beneath him.

"Loki," Stark again dared to rasp out the god's name, clearing his throat and making an attempt to sit up. It was clear that he was still in pain, despite the icing doing its job of slightly easing the injury.

The fallen prince turned to face him, just in time to catch another smug look find its way to Stark's lips (and he wondered how on earth anyone could manage such an expression when they were stuck underground with a villain while nursing a concussion but apparently Tony Stark could manage it).

"_What_, Stark?" he sneered.

"Tony," the man started slowly before again meeting Loki's eyes. "And by the way… you were preaching to the choir."

Loki realized then that he never should've equipped Stark with a weapon such as _words_.

Likeness, too much likeness. Likeness that he needed to crush and destroy into nothing but a fine powder. How much better the world would be if he rid the world of Tony Stark, of that amused glint in his eyes, of that brain and that heart that should not exist in the same body, of that pleased look—

However the self-satisfied expression fell as soon as the god seemed to have an idea and leaned forward again, this time a hand pressed against the circle embedded in his chest.

Ah. _There_ was the hitch of breath, the look of panic, the accelerated heartbeat.

Loki smiled pleasantly as he felt the hum of his own magic, still nestled deep within the machine. Somewhere in that swirl of energy, there still existed some of _him_.

Perhaps enough to—

Glancing up easily to observe the startled and wary expression of the mortal, he gave a slight laugh, finally finding amusement of his own now that it was wiped clean off of Stark's face. For whatever reason, he felt Stark's heartbeat speed up once more as he leaned in.

A whisper of pained, shattered sanity.

"I need you to be _mine_."

* * *

A/N: Reviews always send me into a spiral of absolute glee. Hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Huge apologies for the wait! This was a rather difficult chapter, ahaha.

* * *

Steve was not fond of watching things fall.

It was perhaps too soon for his brain, even though his own descent occurred well over fifty years ago, because all he could realize was that the only thing that could greet something going down was the cold, hard ground.

Nonetheless, he had no choice but to ruin the landing prematurely for these aliens, using his shield to bat them away and knock them aside.

It bothered him to think that other things – buildings, planes, lampposts – and other people – trapped people, scared people, desperate people – and even more – faith, hope, _hearts_ – were still falling all around him. They would keep falling if he didn't stand resolute.

Captain America pledged that he would not let himself fall.

"So you're saying that the Tesseract Energy might've ended up swirling around with the power from the Arc Reactor?" Natasha snapped, harshly yanking Steve out of his reverie with her sharp words and gunshots.

Bruce was crouched in an alleyway, not yet green nor mean, watching as his friends covered for him while he still tried to stop shaking, "Yeah… Yeah. I couldn't help but pick up some readings from Tony while we were working—he kind of radiates energy in more ways than one, you know?—and they were almost uncannily similar to the readings we were getting off of Loki's spear."

"And what does that _mean_, Banner?" Steve spoke up, just after he knocked another Chitauri warrior aside.

The brunette sighed again as he ran a hand through his curls, "I… I'm not really sure. But if they intermingle too much, we might not be able to separate them. And Tony's body has been exposed to that energy for a really long time so it probably adjusted to it and if they aren't stopped—"

"We could lose Stark for good," Natasha cursed, just as she loaded another cartridge into her handgun.

The doctor merely just gulped quietly, affirming it.

"… but we won't let that happen," Steve sighed. He and Tony had had their tiffs, they still didn't get along on a base level, but like hell would he be losing one of his team. "We need to find him again and take him away from the field."

"Using the Iron Man suit often exacerbates his condition. It's better if we get him out of it as soon as possible until we know exactly what's happening to his body." Bruce nodded and finally stood, brushing off all the dust on his person.

Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Listen boys, I know we have to care for Stark… but if we put off everything to search for him, the entire city's going to be destroyed."

"Then it'll be my personal mission."

"Dr. Banner." Steve's brows furrowed and he grit his teeth, his muscles straining as he was brought face to face against a Chitauri. He only spoke after Natasha's bullets turned it into Swiss cheese. "You don't have to—"

"On the contrary, Captain, I do," Bruce sighed and rubbed at his wrists before looking up, his earnest gaze on Steve. "So are you going to let me go or do I have to go rogue?"

It took all of a moment for Steve to weigh the pros and cons, eventually just shaking his head, "Okay… New set of orders for you, find Stark and get him back to a safe location and out of the Iron Man suit. Smash everything in sight on your way there."

A quirky little smile tugged at Bruce's lips before he nodded, "Understood."

His run further back into the alley was followed by the sound of walls being crushed and a deafening roar.

The Hulk was now unleashed in the city.

Steve went back into focusing on the fight, punching aliens left and right, making use of the body that the super soldier serum granted him. He'd realized that Natasha had wandered a bit farther during his conversation with Bruce and so he went to go find her—

Only to find that she was perfectly fine, what with her greeting being a stolen Chitauri weapon pointed right at his face.

He was impressed. Nonetheless, he took upon the gentleman's role and offered her a hand from where she was placing most of her weight on a police car, pulling her up and onto her feet as both of their gazes drifted upward.

"Hate to be a downer, Cap," she breathed, "but this isn't going to mean a damn thing if we don't close that portal."

"Our biggest guns couldn't touch it," he lamented and couldn't help but notice that there was a larger count of Chitauri in the air now that Tony wasn't monitoring them—it hurt to think that even his assistance might've been a lie. How much better would they be faring if he was all there…?

"Maybe it's not about guns." She shrugged and locked her eyes on the Stark Tower, the origin of the pillar of light. There was something determined in her gaze, harsh and unforgiving as the ice that he found himself trapped in.

It was all at once frightening and incredibly amazing.

Steve eventually found his words as he tilted his head to the side. "You're gonna need a ride."

Again, her gaze drifted skyward to where the air fleet of aliens buzzed and zipped overhead. She hummed easily. "I've got a ride."

"… you sure?"

"I could use a lift though," she quipped, turning so that she faced him while continuing to walk backwards.

Again, he just had to repeat the question, "…. You _sure_ about this?"

"Yeah, it could be fun." She shrugged and spoke as if she was proposing a day at the beach.

Not a second after, she had started sprinting at him and Steve took his cue, kneeling down and aiming his shield at an angle for her to get a grip. As soon as he felt her weight, he shifted and propelled her straight up.

He was perhaps too eager to move his shield aside, watching her spin into the air and reach out, latching onto one of the alien transportation vehicles and flying away.

His brows raised and he couldn't help but grin a bit. Dames of this century were something else.

A repulsor blast shot the smile right off his face.

"Tsk tsk, Cap, I thought you were supposed to be a 1940's guy," a familiar voice boomed overhead, Iron Man shrugging with his palms turned up. His left glove was still cooling down from the last hit. "Now come on, quit the skirt-chasing and face me like a man."

"Tony…?" Steve turned in the rubble, pressing a hand to his abdomen, still feeling the sting of the shot. "What happened to you?"

"What happened to me..?"

The face plate of the Iron Man helmet flipped up – and Steve felt his heart fall, crashing into the unforgiving ground – revealing a wicked grin and blazing blue eyes.

"I got to know peace."

* * *

Loki practically laughed as he watched the Avengers fight amongst one another, the repulsor blast knocking the good captain right off his feet.

Oh, his new pet was just so fun to watch.

The god hummed as he raised a brow. Perhaps he could bring Tony along with him, keep him as a general and occasionally a foot stool. After all, the mortal had proven himself to be _so_ useful already.

Really, the only issue with Tony was his damned_ mouth_.

As the God of Lies and Mischief, Loki perhaps knew too intimately how dangerous words could be when employed as weapons. However there had been very few that knew how to wield them properly, instead throwing them blindly and hoping that their spear would find purchase in their target.

(Or in other occasions when words had barbs not at all intended—

"_Know your place, brother."_

—yet perhaps those were the arrows that flew most true.)

Narrowing his eyes a bit, Loki watched as the advanced suit of armor rained bombs and other such weaponry upon the final beacon of hope that the city had. Captain America, he who had perhaps _too much_ heart… yes, he would be an issue if he continued boosting the morale of the people and the Avengers alike.

Best to simply send Tony to encase that super soldier in a far more permanent sleep.

With a wave of his hand, the god found himself on a separate flying device and he turned his back to the site where the two comrades fought.

Certainly, he thought. Certainly it was about time these foolish humans had a taste of true betrayal.

It was a delicacy that the gods relished in so often, after all. Right alongside revenge.

And so he pursued his revenge on the one who had managed to twist her words just right, to fool even _him_—Oh yes. He had quite the pesky gnat to quash.

* * *

Steve was the one who found Tony after Phil died.

It was something that Tony would probably never forget.

Genius billionaire playboy philanthropist—it was still accurate. He just forgot to mention 'narcissist alcoholic time-bomb'. Anyone who dealt with him deserved a medal, or really, a few of them and maybe a private plane along with being made CEO of his company.

Not that anyone would say it was difficult to work with Tony Stark, no. Such a statement could never be made publicly or else it would _have_ to be dealt with.

So instead the people closest to him – Rhodey, Happy, beautiful and patient and perfect Pepper – would tell him. They would try to quit on him, they would ignore his orders, they would shut him out of their lives, and they would tell him that they shouldn't hang out because it wouldn't be good for their friendship.

They would somehow, without fail or hesitance, be there to pick him back up.

… well, almost without fail.

Pepper was at the meeting in Washington. Happy was acting as her bodyguard. Rhodey had been away for weeks already to finish his tour of duty.

And normally they were all there to save Tony from his inner demons, from the bottles of Scotch that lined his walls, from the constant teetering on the edge of starvation when he got caught in a fit of genius and locked himself in the lab, from getting lost in the game.

After all Tony Stark was a gambler, he knew exactly how to quadruple his winnings and he knew how to count cards, but he rarely did. No, he was much more accustomed to running along with dice, roulettes—he didn't want something he could calculate even though _everything_ could be a little calculated if he angled his hand just right and put in so much force.

Tony Stark took a chance on the Avengers Initiative, not sure what he was putting his faith in but thinking that there was a chance that maybe they would be able to succeed where every other force on earth would fail.

Tony Stark dared to let himself start trusting the people of SHIELD or maybe just that guy named Agent that managed to help keep Pepper safe from Obadiah, who was there when Tony announced to the world that he wasn't going to hide from them, who was assigned on the job to keep Tony under house arrest and failed just enough to let him actually get things done, who he still owed a plane trip to Portland—

Tony Stark made the mistake of coming to trust Agent Phil Coulson who died, just in time for no one else there to come to his rescue.

Tony Stark made a bad bet and seemed to have lost it all in one raid of the Helicarrier.

Then Captain America had been the one to find him in his irrational, emotional, whirlwind state.

Just like Howard had always promised him as a boy, when he was in trouble, it would be Captain America that would be the one to be able to save him.

"Tony!" Steve held up his shield, angling it so that the repulsor ray was directed away from Tony as opposed to sending it right back, "Why are you doing this?!"

(Somewhere in the trap of his mind, Tony was clinging to a single rope of control against the waves of alien will, he tried to pull the reins back into his hands. Instead he could only whine—and that's when he felt the desperation because Anthony Edward Stark never whined.

'_Steve! Steve, it's not me…!'_)

In reality, Tony only felt a slight constriction in his throat. Nothing that a clearing of it wouldn't get rid of before he spoke, the speakers from the helmet of the voice projecting the cockiness loud and clear. "Well… you know how super soldiers work. Unlike oh say… a _hydra_, when you cut one head off, it doesn't grow back!"

Blue eyes widened from beneath the mask, staring up at Tony in disbelief. Steve was so stunned he barely had the reflexes to be able to bring up the shield just as Iron Man dove to fight him on the ground.

"We don't have to do this…!" the soldier growled and only just barely began to fight back, dodging one of the repulsor blasts and using his shield to bat the suit of armor further away.

"Oh on the contrary, _Steven_," Tony scoffed and wasn't against shooting forward again, maneuvering the suit to swoop past the next swing of the shield, delivering a firm metal boot into the leader's shoulder. "I think we do!"

There was no mercy in the way that Captain America caught hold of Iron Man's boot, heaving and throwing the suit upon the ground with all of his strength. However there was mercy in the way that his face crumpled as soon as he heard the collision of concrete with metal—

"You're just as soft as they say," Iron Man whispered as he activated the jet at the bottom of his foot, knocking Steve away none too kindly.

Standing, not minding the flaring red signs in the suit that there was a remarkable amount of damage from the shield and superhuman strength alone, Tony continued as he stepped forward. "Look at you, trying to be the hero—you're no more of a hero than _I_ am, Rogers. You're just a mindless soldier."

(_'We're not soldiers. None of us are soldiers, we're just men, we're men saving the world or avenging it. Sometimes we're heroes, don't _say_ that.'_)

"Mindless soldier…?" Steve coughed and pushed himself to his feet again, wiping away the blood from his lip and not minding the trickle that fell down the side of his face, "Last I checked, you're the one following orders from the god here, Tony—

"… and you don't have to," he whispered, pleading again. "You don't deserve this."

(And Tony's insides lurched because what if he _did_, Steve?

What if he did deserve this for all the people he ordered around without a second thought, expecting the world to revolve around him and his whims? What if maybe this was just the universe biting him in the ass and putting him in the subjugation position—reminding him that most of the time, he was actually the asshole on the other side?

What if this was his lesson?

The burning feeling in his chest. The way he loved to be loved. The want to be wanted.

The need to be needed.)

"You're hardly in the place to tell me what I do or don't _have_ to do, you know?" Tony raised both brows, testing the words on his lips before shrugging. "But hey, if you still want to give orders, fearless leader, go right on ahead."

Blue eyes were locked on blue as Tony lifted the face plate again, getting a good look of the battered, beaten Captain America that stood before him.

"But you know," he hummed and lifted his palm to the fallen soldier, feeling the hum of energy stir to life. "I'm going to have to ask that you actually make them your last requests."

(_'Get away.'_

Tony had that falling feeling all over again.

'_Steve, you're going to lose._')

* * *

Loki was certain that he had managed to catch her, just one more blast away from successfully blowing the pesky girl right out of the sky (and he would only be a little bit sorry, if only because he did like her spunk)—

Until it was instead one of the damned archer's arrows that caught him off-guard.

Just as he had gotten on his feet, it would seem that the foolish team had formed some strange semblance of _togetherness_—and it sounded bitter even in his thoughts—leaving it as only a mild surprise when the great, green, hulking creature roared before tackling Loki right into a very familiar room indeed.

"Enough!" he commanded, just as the brute began to turn to him again. He pursed his lips to hide how he grit his teeth, assuming the posture of a king over the beast.

What a beast indeed—practically a giant in his own right. Everything about the creature was large and lumbering, from the way it stepped and swayed to the bestial and feral look in its eyes. Yes, this was indeed some sort of nightmare that had been conjured up in the minds of children left in the dark for too long.

This was the sort of monster that parents told their children about at night.

Loki knew a thing or two about being a monster wrapped up in skin that didn't belong to him.

It sent a tingle of sorts down his spine as he locked eyes with the oafish thing, feeling repulsion and hatred ripple through his entire being. Simple, primitive, and disgusting—

This 'Hulk' as they called it may as well have been a Frost Giant painted green.

Before he could think to help it, Loki's mouth curled into a cruel grin. "Stunning. Simply _stunning_ to see you in your true skin, Dr. Banner. How does it feel, hm? How does it feel to know that the world that you are so desperate to protect will only fear and hate you when brought face to face with this beast?"

The monstrosity seemed to huff its aggravation, taking a brutish step to the left, nostrils flaring.

"Yes, that's it," the god laughed, "Show what little emotion that you're capable of, beast! Maybe you'll find someone to take pity upon you—but who could possibly manage to even _tolerate_ someone so _vile_?"

The Hulk shook in response to that, lips parting in a gross grimace, teeth far too large and expression too primitive for any higher life form. He swayed back and forth a few times, brow furrowing and some syllables passed through his lips as if he was trying to communicate—

It took some time before Loki realized that the beast was answering his question.

Two syllables were enough to form a name.

"_I don't believe in monsters."_

Loki was not sure if it was the revelation or the sudden leap of the green creature that made his eyes widen. He was not sure if it was the words conjured up by his traitorous memory or the Hulk's hand grabbing at him that made his chest ache. He was most unsure if it was that terrible mortal or the sheer brute strength of the beast that made him so weak—

So unable to fight back as he was thrown against the ground over and over.

Eventually it ended.

Loki didn't make a noise, much as his body protested and his lesser instincts tried to coax it out of him. No, he only remained still in stunned silence as the beast trudged away—

"Puny god," the Hulk spat in low tones.

And _that_, Loki lamented, was the beast that his mortal loved.

(Yet somewhere far, far in the back of his mind, there formed a lie that even the Trickster could not persuade himself to truly believe.

But he still hoped that maybe Tony could possibly—

… No. He would not let himself believe.)

* * *

Clint had attested to Fury before this whole mess even happened, "I see better from afar."

Despite what jokes may have been said about how he simply enjoyed being able to hang out in his nest as opposed to being with everyone else on the ground, it stood true.

So his brow furrowed just after he loosed another arrow, leaving the archer shifting at his perch.

"Well, that's disheartening," he murmured softly to himself.

Cryptic as it was, he couldn't quite pull his eyes away from the tragic sight of a flagpole flying the American colors making its descent.

* * *

A/N: As always, your reviews are more than welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: So sorry for the lateness! Here's the wrap-up chapter for this arc of the story. c: Hope you enjoy.

* * *

God had fallen.

The Hulk huffed as he continued to trudge around the suite of Stark Tower, knowing that he had something to look for but still not coherent enough to know what. Something dug and crawled in the back of his mind, trying to regain control and eventually a voice broke through—

"Dr. Banner."

"Banner's not here," he growled at the ceiling.

"Mr. Hulk then," the mechanical, posh voice corrected. "You shall have to forgive me. Mr. Stark has programmed the two to be interchangeable."

There was no response from the 'Other Guy' except a bit more bumbling grumbling and a shifting of his feet.

"To introduce myself, I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark's glorified babysitter, if you will." And the Hulk gave a slight snort, as if amused that the machine seemed to have a sense of humor. "There's protocol for what is to happen if Mr. Stark acts too far from his basic personality. Considering the man's own volatile habits, he must stray very far off in order for the fail-safes to be activated."

The Hulk continued to glare at the ceiling, though he seemed just patient enough to wait—even though he was slowly edging toward the exit now, wary of the AI. His question was unspoken but potent in the air-

'And?'

"It was intended to allow me freer rein should Mr. Stark go particularly off the deep end, for example—if he was so intoxicated that he felt like selling his car collection. That was a rather bad February," the machine recalled before drawing his explanation to a close. "However after analyzing his voice input and the fact that my program has been expelled from the Mark VII for the past two hours, I have reason to believe that he is acting out of character."

Large, bushy brows knitted together as the Hulk began to puzzle over the meaning between the words, calming considerably as the clawing in the back of his mind—the second consciousness dwelling in his brain—began to resurface.

Slowly he began to shrink down again, skin losing its green pigment.

JARVIS observed from the camera and gave an amused drawl if one ever could've come from a machine.

"I am at your mostly-full disposal, Dr. Banner."

* * *

"Cap- Rogers come in, I saw some stuff fall over in your sector. Captain, I need you to respond."

There was a numb feeling in Steve's chest as he stood over the crumpled, battered, and _still_ Iron Man suit.

Underneath the weight of the flagpole, the suit had received a despicably large dent in the shoulder area, the momentum causing a heavy blow before Steve had just barely managed to pull Tony away before he was completely crushed by the full brunt of the pole. Now he leaned against the base—the foot where the thing had once stood—mask off his face and completely unconscious.

Steve held his breath as he watched the arc reactor, observing its glow before breathing, "… Here. Fine… m'fine. But we need to clear Stark out of the way."

"Get him to the subway," Clint spoke after a beat, likely having taken the moment to draw an arrow and fire it. "Seriously, we can't dawdle anymore. Good that you found him though. What, did Loki just discard him?"

Not that the archer was bitter or anything.

"I—" the captain's breath caught in his throat as he shook his head faintly, pulling his tattered mask off his face and running a hand through his hair. "How could he?"

"How could he what, Rogers?"

"How could he just take over someone against their will and just send them out like that? Make them fight their friends and make them—"

"Oh," Clint interrupted. "Well. No. he didn't do that."

"Clint, he—"

"Who earned his Mindcontrol Merits here?" the SHIELD agent sighed as he loosed another arrow and rolled his eyes. "Listen Cap, you don't want to be under the effect of that glowing gizmo. So take my word for it—you don't even know that it's against your will. Wanna know why?"

There was no response so Clint only had to assume Steve nodded. If not, he was going to have to hear it anyway because now he was on a roll—

"Because you don't have any will."

"But Bruce said that To—Stark might still be mixed in here somewhere," the soldier faltered momentarily as he looked down at the figure again, crouching down and glancing the streets. For one reason or another, their area was clear. He'd have to thank Clint and Thor for their hard work later.

"Huh…" Clint frowned and took a moment's pause. Steve almost thought the conversation was done before the man quickly added, "Well I guess the bastard doesn't always lie."

"What?" And instinctively, Steve pried his eyes from the peaceful expression on Tony's face, gaze drifting upward even though his sight did not compare to the hawk's. Still, he thought for some reason that he might be able to see him—

"Loki said it so I'm not keen to hold onto it too much," Clint explained slowly. "But he did say that it touches everyone differently."

A deafening roar made their communication line hiccup.

"Cap, don't freak out on me or anything." The archer paused as he narrowed his eyes. "But you've got company."

* * *

It was as if Loki's scepter itself was alive, energy and power coursing through its veins—tinged with an overlay of _greed_. In Natasha's hands, it acted as if it had a heartbeat and at any moment, she was prepared for it to suddenly turn into a serpent on her—

And in the back of her mind, she realized that the effect was making her paranoia skyrocket.

Negative habits were just amplified by the thing, to the point that just holding it or being within close proximity of it could absolutely destroy a person's control if they weren't careful. Somewhere in her mind there was the memory of Bruce, too close to the table and all it took was an argument for him to reach out to grasp at the weapon and therefore make a grasp at power.

Her lip curled downward as her eyes narrowed, glancing down at the thing again. She had been played enough by its master; she would not be played by the weapon itself.

Considering the fact that she was very, very good at controlling her emotions, the random swells of feeling did not sit well with her. Not the pride that came with the fact that she had found the answer that neither Stark nor Thor could, not the sheer exasperation that came of doing a job well done that no one would truly credit her for when there were bigger players involved, and certainly not the curiosity of what would happen if the one who watched regimes fall could be the one to finally orchestrate them.

Her steps became faster.

Oh she would curse Stark for his layout, having to go into the building again to have to get back up to the other balconies—there was too much rampant destruction that rang too closely in her ears of roaring beasts and crashing metal.

But Bruce had left earlier- she had heard him well enough. All that it would take now was for her to get back and keep a very, very tight hold on herself and her inclinations. The funny thing was that she simply never recalled it to be this hard before.

She almost found it to be as hard as the reinforced wall that she was shoved into as soon as she stepped out of the private elevator, her eyes suddenly meeting wild green ones.

Thankfully she was nothing if not fierce and while spears were not her weapon of choice, that didn't mean that she couldn't take down a small army with one—much less one recently Hulk-ravaged god. So her hand still instinctively inched toward her gun despite his hands pressing into her shoulders.

"You know," she breathed and found herself without an inch of fear. What had made her so nervous with the Hulk was the utter lack of control— Now? Well. While she might've cautioned Captain America against going toe to toe with the Asgardians, she never exactly held him on the same level as herself. Her lips curled into a smile and she wasn't sure if it was the spear or her own thoughts anymore but she didn't care because it would all lead to the same end. "I've got a bone to pick with you."

On strength alone, Loki could keep her arms pinned to the wall—but she was swifter than he was. It was when he saw her fingers again reach for the pistol at her waist that he spoke, "And we shall settle that score later."

It was only because he didn't sound like a madman that she didn't say anything, only narrowing her eyes and retaining the same frosty bite of detached curiosity.

That was enough for the silver tongue to regain momentum as the words fell past his lips, his eyes still locked on hers.

"I seek a bargain," he offered slowly.

Her breath stuttered. There had been myths upon what happened when you made a deal with the Liesmith, but something in the back of her mind whispered '_just wait_.'

Keeping her poker face perfect and feeling his fingers no longer digging into her arms, she supposed that she could trust her impulses—it had kept her alive before, after all. there was no reason to deny branching out her options.

"I'm listening."

* * *

They'd ripped his heart out.

That's what Tony understood when he woke up, feeling the arc reactor disconnect from his body as he reflexively lurched forward, eyes widening and jostled out of his unconscious state. Wild eyes looked for the answer, finding only the solemn faces of Bruce and Steve—he couldn't make out their lips though, not when they spoke softly and the way that his ringing ears drowned them out anyway.

Ah, so they'd decided to just get rid of him?

It made sense, he thought, because he was aware of what he had done. The pooled energy in his chest that ran through his veins was lifted from him now, leaving him only with the crystal clear clarity of shooting his repulsors at Cap and putting the lives of citizens in danger.

_Volatile, self-obsessed, don't play well with others._

It was about time someone had decided to make the call to cut him from the team. Whose grand idea was that anyway? Who on earth ever thought that Tony Stark would be able to qualify as a superhero?

As his surroundings went bleary again, he was close to blaming it on god. The God or a god… he still wasn't sure. Though in the end, he truly knew it to only be his own fault.

He liked to pretend that it wasn't though. Perhaps he could still blame it all upon green, green eyes. As soon as the thought came to him, Tony's own eyes widened again and his breath skipped.

Ah. There it was. The sweet, painful mercy of cardiac arrest.

Above him the figures moved, though their shapes were bleary, colors as if they were messily smudged on a canvas by a child. Blue moved off to the side, just as a shrieking cry of something rang in Tony's ears, just as Tan seemed to fumble with something in his hands. Those hands came closer to him and became clearer as they drew nearer and nearer still and Tony recalled them—moving bars and dancing on panels in the lab.

Bruce's eyes were obscured from him but Tony opened his lips to say something. He wouldn't beg in his final minutes, no. But the memory of a crushing green fist against his skull was still too familiar as well as the pain that was in those big, confused eyes.

It was funny how quiet his mind was now, he thought. Without the conflict or the racing pace, he found the words easily.

'I'm sorry, buddy,' he wanted to say.

But all it took still was one last surge for it to be over.

* * *

"Agent Romanoff, do you copy?"

"You sound out of breath, Director," Natasha quipped even though she was struggling herself, rushing up to the balcony with the scepter in hand. "We're a little busy at the moment."

"Is Stark so busy that he can't pick up his goddamn communication line?!" the SHIELD director growled and the Black Widow frowned. Either SHIELD's eyes in the city weren't all up or Stark had personally messed with the cameras so nothing of his suspicious behavior was captured and relayed back.

Her heel hit the concrete of the top level of the balcony, Selvig looking at her expectantly and giving a slight nod. Everything was ready for the portal to be closed.

"There's a situation with Stark that has temporarily put him out of commission," she spoke in low tones. Deft fingers lifted the scepter and she narrowed her eyes. "We'll have to deal with it after I close the portal, sir."

"Agent Romanoff, that is now second priority."

"What…?!" she hissed, earning the confused look of the scientist. "Sir, I can close it now. We have to act or—"

"Or else that missile heading straight for Manhattan will make all of your efforts for nothing."

Her blood ran at absolute zero, frigid even for the Russian as her eyes widened. However even in that state, her mind was racing, "Sir, the Quinjet is down and Thor does not have a communication device. We might be able to yell at him to intercept it—"

"You have less than three minutes, Agent Romanoff."

He sounded nervous.

Nick Fury never sounded nervous.

"It will be done, sir," she spoke quickly and ran her eyes over the skyline, searching for the shock of blond hair that might have a chance of saving them all. It was a good thing that there were days when she couldn't tell the difference between her lies and her promises.

Something buzzed in her ear and a heavy breath surprised her.

"Identify yourself." The director jumped it far faster than she did.

"Iron Man." Tony cleared his throat before speaking again, "So let me guess—Dad's gift to man has gone ahead and been delivered without a gift receipt."

* * *

"Tony, are you crazy?" Bruce tried to reason with him, even as he stepped forward to stabilize the man as he was standing up on clunky feet. "You honestly just got out of cardiac arrest—"

"No, I was crazy when I was held prisoner in my own head," Tony looked to Bruce for a moment before tapping against the side of his helmet, picking the face plate off the ground where Steve had thrown it. "JARVIS, wake up. Daddy's home, I need you, pal. Nice call on telling Bruce about the spare arc reactor."

"I merely thought 'What Would Sir Do?', sir," the AI found its home in his headset again, earning Tony's wry smile.

He snapped the face plate in place as he looked to Bruce. Thank god for being able to speak more freely when no one could see his face—

"Thanks, Banner." He attempted to make his voice light. "And I'm sorry."

The sound of boots on gravel caught his attention and he turned just to see Captain America walking back. He paused for a moment, noticing the scorch marks where he had managed to land a clean hit on their fearless leader. Steve seemed to open his mouth as if he wanted to say something.

"Two minutes," was all Tony said before he took off into the air.

* * *

There wasn't much fairness to be found in the world, Tony realized. Not as he hefted the missile onto his shoulders, likely being praised as a hero as well as a philanthropist on the news, none of them even the slightest bit aware of the atrocities he had committed within the past two hours. Even when he was a villain, he was a hero.

Steve was wrong. He didn't even have to pretend. It was just a label he naturally didn't deserve.

"Stark, you know that's a one way trip." Speak of the devil.

He swallowed quietly and chose to ignore the voice of Captain, the voice of reason. Instead addressing JARVIS, he spoke smoothly, "Save the rest for the turn, J."

He'd come back. He didn't deserve to die so easily now. There was a lot to make up for.

There was a beat in which silence reigned, just before Tony cleared his throat and spoke, knowing that Steve was still listening in. "… Rogers," he breathed.

"Stark?"

"You're every bit the man my dad said you were."

He cut the lines and raised his head, just as JARVIS spoke up again. "Shall I dial Miss Potts, sir?"

Something in the back of Tony's throat constricted before he realized it'd been too long indeed since he'd last heard her voice. He breathed out. "Might as well."

In that moment, he watched her face on his screen. The curve of her smile, the brightness in her eyes, the calm radiance that she held about her. He blinked and wondered why on earth he hadn't seen it from the first day she walked into his office.

Legends couldn't die, he knew that. No matter what, his legacy would live on. Eventually his body would perish but in the end, Tony Stark could never possibly meet his end.

But in that moment he knew that Pepper Potts would be the death of him.

Even as he wondered for a moment why the eyes of his personal goddess weren't green.

* * *

On ground level, they watched the red and gold suit disappear right into the blackness of the void.

Bruce had since transformed into the Hulk again, though Steve was not even sure if it was a conscious change at this point. He had temporarily gone off to throw around some Chitauri and the super soldier could understand. There was steam that he wanted to blow off as well.

But he was rooted to that spot.

Just as he felt the Hulk's heavy footsteps next to him, he breathed out and broached the topic that neither of them wanted to address.

"Hulk," he addressed him so casually and the creature glanced to him before looking up into the sky.

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing in the air.

"Please tell me that his eyes were brown."

* * *

The first time Tony Stark had fallen, he was five. It was an experiment to see how far he could jump off the swing and for half a second, he felt like he was flying until it felt like the entire earth turned on him, orchestrating a grand descent for the failed superhero.

His call to Pepper failed.

His suit wasn't designed for space travel.

His entire being filled with a sense of dread.

His mercy was in the explosions that occurred right before his eyes, blowing the spaceship to smithereens and he wondered idly what it was like back on ground level.

What did everyone else see? The retribution of a villain? The death of a hero?

Maybe if Natasha didn't jump the gun in closing the portal – the chances were fifty-fifty, he decided – they would see the slow descent that he had made between the labels.

And as he fell, he thought of her.

He thought of her strawberry blonde hair - which was a designation he never understood, because it didn't look like strawberry or blonde to him. Though she often smelled of strawberries, her shampoo, and he thought of the way she often smelled of ink and strawberry and a faint dab of whatever perfume she had and the way that she would never grin for him. No, it was never a grin, it was a smile and he thought of her caller ID picture that was in the corner of his screen a moment ago.

At least the last time he saw her, she was smiling.

Then, only after he closed his eyes, Tony thought of him.

He thought of the wicked smiles and the long tirades—the sharp eyes, the sharper tongue—and he thought of the weakness. For a god, the Liesmith had too many gaping openings and Tony had wondered how no one at SHIELD had cared to notice or thought to address them before: the way that he held an inherent disdain for partnership, the scathing attitude in response to camaraderie, and the firm belief in monsters.

It wasn't fair at all, Tony thought. He was never the religious type.

But here he was, practically praying to a god on his deathbed.

If Pepper was to be the death of him, then perhaps Loki would be—

* * *

Mortals were beneath him.

Loki reminded himself that for the umpteenth time as he watched the portal along with everyone else, standing against the glass of the window. He had just caught the sight of the Iron Man suit disappearing into the abyss, a place that Loki found himself all too familiar with.

Tony Stark would break there. He was certain of it.

There was no need to watch further, Loki knew. For chances were, as he watched Natasha push his scepter forward to interfere with the Tesseract, the portal would close before Iron Man would return. If it did not close, he would die from the fall.

These insects and their sentiment. He had seen the way that even Thor had paused to watch the Man of Iron disappear, noticed the inch of hesitance before Natasha pushed forward with her interruption. Everyone in this world was a fool—even the Black Widow. It was a shame since he had such high hopes for her.

… and only her, he reminded himself as he found his eyes watching the portal shrink.

His mind raced with plans and deceptions. There was much to be done now. For his purposes, he could not immediately disappear. To be alone would practically be asking for the Chitauri to ambush him. It was worrisome that there was nowhere left to run, but he found himself grasping and chasing after the obscure answer nonetheless.

Yet in the middle of his chase, he found his mind running back to the fact that now only one man had made the same descent through space as he had.

There was no stilted breath as the armor appeared in the middle of the sky. There was no arch of his brows when it did not seem as though the mortal would take control and stop his descent. There was no pursing of his lips as the hideous oaf that had beaten him caught the mortal.

And whatever palpitation of his heart there was when the mortal was startled awake, was only because of the monster's roar.

Loki clenched his fists and turned with a flourish to attend to his place before the next act started.

Mortals _were_ beneath him.

He did not wish to question why he needed the reminder.

* * *

The Trickster found pride in the fact that that majority of his plans worked—it was just unfortunate how fate chose to decide that the important ones were almost always doomed to fail. The claim to the throne, destruction of Jötunheim, and apparently now his attempt at ruling Midgard.

Yet that would not stop him from finding a way to slip out of direct punishment. It was only his minor hope – if he would deign to call it such – that this path would be at least marginally more pleasant than his fall.

He displaced the gravel slowly, reaching out first toward the step as he drew himself up with a heavy breath.

However that breath was seemingly knocked out of him as he turned only to find an arrow pointed directly at him. Ah, of course, the first of his puppets truly seemed to lack any sense of humor or mercy. But what else could one expect of an assassin?

"If it's all the same to you," he began a slow drawl as his eyes glanced elsewhere for a moment.

Someone shifted slightly and the action was not lost on him as he glanced back toward the team of upstarts that had managed to 'thwart his plans'.

Loki exhaled softly before glancing back up at the group—the _heroes_, he supposed—and spoke as harmlessly as he could muster. "I'll have that drink now."

And despite it all, despite the mindcontrol, the insanity, and the general state of destruction of _everything_, he saw Tony's lips quirk lightly into a smirk.

Well, if that wasn't a cue, he didn't know what was.

A strangled noise escaped the man's lips as he was plucked off from the rest of the herd and Loki found it so convenient indeed that the man chose to stand at the side, practically begging to once again be made the god's prey.

There was a twitch in Barton's arm as he swung his bow around, Natasha's fingers itched for her gun, the Captain's jaw clenched, Thor held a breath, and the Hulk seemed all but ready to tear Loki apart.

But they were all rendered immobile as a sharp knife was held right over the arc reactor.

Yet the Liesmith had sharper words still as the illusion of himself in the crater shimmered away, "Isn't the manipulation of solid matter just so _useful_?"

None of them seemed to be able to come up with a response, which he almost found pitiful. Were he and the man he held captive now truly the only ones capable of any form of wit?

Some part of Loki's mind juggled with the idea of leaving Tony there, weighing the pros and cons of extra baggage as he searched for a haven.

But in the end, there was no question about it, was there?

Green eyes danced with mirth as he took a step back, pulling the battered and exhausted man along with him, the knife still poised in his fingers as he hummed. "Well then, I do appreciate all your hospitality—in fact, my time on Midgard has been so enjoyable that perhaps I'll partake in one of your traditions."

And just as expected, Tony understood it far faster than the rest if the lack of exhale was anything to go by.

Loki wore a mock expression of realization for just a moment. "Oh yes, I recall the name of it now." His lips curled into a wicked grin. "I believe it's something along the lines of taking along a _souvenir_."

The sudden flash of light was familiar enough to half the team that they didn't even bother to run after the fact—not in the way that Thor and Clint did, only to find empty space where Loki and Tony had just stood.

The Avengers were left searching for answers in each other's eyes as silence settled over the room again.

It was the third time they lost Tony that day.

* * *

A/N: As always, your reviews and comments are my life's joy. Thank you so much for reading!


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